Chapter Seven
Ronan
By the time they got Sorcha to the hospital, Ronan felt a lot better about the young omega’s condition. Although reticent as always, Sorcha had seemed fully aware when they’d left the house, and his cut had clotted enough to stop bleeding.
Sorcha was examined in the omega wing of the hospital. It always annoyed Ronan that, apart from the birthing rooms, the section of the facility reserved for omegas was drab and less well-equipped than the alpha and beta areas. However, the staff took Sorcha to a private screening room, likely because he’d come in with Teal. No one wanted to be accused of giving poor service to a friend of the state’s most famous omega rights lawyer.
Beta staff checked Sorcha’s vitals. A nurse diagnosed him with a mild concussion and stitched up the cut on his head. The hospital would have sent him home after that, except Ronan insisted on a consultation with a doctor. No alpha or betadiagnosed with a concussion would have been permitted to leave without seeing one.
“This really isn’t necessary,” Sorcha said from his position on the bed. “I have the stitches now so we should leave. If my uncles were here, they’d be reminding me that time is money.”
Ronan felt his inner alpha stir, responding not just to his rapidly-increasing displeasure with Sorcha’s family, but also arousal at the firmness in the little omega’s voice. Ronan wasn’t willing to compromise on Sorcha’s health. They would wait until a doctor signed off on things. But it thrilled him that the young omega felt comfortable enough to speak freely with him and Teal.
Ronan looked across the bed at his husband. Teal held Sorcha’s hand, occasionally raising it to his lips. Ronan rested a protective palm on Sorcha’s shin. At some point, they’d stopped questioning the growing bond between the three of them.
Two hours after they arrived, a kind beta nurse came in to check on Sorcha and let them know the doctor would arrive momentarily. From the nurse’s expression, Ronan gathered that the doctor hadn’t been pleased with the assignment.
“Why have I been called to the omega wing?” An irritated voice boomed before a large alpha in a white coat thundered into the room, looking down at a tablet.
The nurse thrust Sorcha’s chart into the doctor’s hands. “This couple insisted that their, um, friend, be seen by a physician.”
The surly alpha scrutinized it, angrily lifting the papers. “That seems unnecessary. I don’t appreciate having to waste my—”
When the doctor finally peered up from the clipboard, he stopped short upon seeing Ronan and Teal. His mouth gaped briefly, indicating he'd recognized them.
The doctor cleared his throat as he lowered the chart to his side. “I’m Dr. Braswell. Well, let’s see what we have here.” He coughed again, loudly. “Sorcha, is it?”
Sorcha peered up at the gruff alpha before nodding.
“Head wound. Possible concussion.” The doctor turned and eyed Ronan scornfully. “Did this omega get hurt on one of your job sites?”
Ronan flattened his lips. “No. He’s not one of my employees.”
“This is Sorcha Collins. Our neighbor,” Teal interjected, unfazed by the physician’s attitude. “We wanted to speak with a doctor to ensure that nothing regarding his treatment has been missed or done in half-measures. He had his wound stitched up, but he also lost consciousness several times while at our home. Are you sure there are no further tests or anything else needed?”
“He lost consciousness?” the doctor asked.
“Yes. Not drastically, but there were a few minutes he was completely out.” Sorcha appeared relieved Teal had stepped in to answer the doctor’s questions.
“Hmm.” Dr. Braswell ran his thumb and pointer finger along his chin.
Ronan sighed. “What would you recommend if an alpha came in with similar symptoms?”
The doctor whipped his head in Ronan’s direction. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing,” Ronan said. “I’m simply asking a question.”
“That’s right,” Teal added, uncowed even as Dr. Braswell glared at him. “It would certainly be a sticky situation for you and this hospital if you sent our friend home without proper treatment. Especially after the decree last year that omegas should receive the same level of medical care as other genders.”
That decree had been a huge step forward for the omega rights movement. Still, it was one thing to pass a decree, and another for stalwart alpha doctors like the one in front of them to change their minds. But Teal’s tacit threat of legal action hit its mark.
Dr. Braswell grunted. “I suppose we could get his head scanned.” He turned to the nurse. “Can you get a transport for this omega to the diagnostics center downstairs?”
“Of course. It’ll just take a few minutes.” The beta gave Teal an approving look.
“Can we go with him for his scan?” Teal asked.
“Only one of you. That’s the policy.”
